A/N: Reviews encourage me to keep writing. So please write one.

TEN

I left my mother's house pleasantly full of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and chocolate cake. I had a nice doggie bag too, with enough left-over meatloaf for a couple sandwiches and a huge slice of chocolate cake wrapped in tin foil. I also still had a left ring finger, at least for now. If I couldn't figure out how to get these rings off soon, the bolt cutter might start sounding like a good idea.

I went straight home, even though I wanted to pick up Rex. I couldn't face Morelli quite yet. Especially with the fake wedding rings still adhered to my hand.

Pushing the door of my apartment open, I stopped in my tracks. My lights and TV were on. Rex and his aquarium rested on my counter. I peeked into the living room and saw Morelli sitting on my couch, an open beer in his hand. I suddenly became very glad my left hand remained hidden by my bag of leftovers. Bob picked his head off the floor, woofed, and charged me. He skidded into my knees, but I'd braced myself for impact. I scratched him behind the ears as he leaned against my legs, slobbering all over my jeans.

Morelli looked my way and took a long swig of beer. "I had some interesting phone calls today."

"Oh?" I tried to act casual as I stepped around Bob and went into the kitchen to unpack my left-overs.

"Rumor has it you got married," Morelli shouted from his spot on my sofa. "Everyone assumes it was to me. Problem is, I don't recall proposing or getting married, especially as I haven't seen you in over a week."

"Don't worry, I'm not married," I called from the kitchen.

"Then why does everyone think you are?"

"You know how rumors are in the Burg."

"And the rumors that you've got two gold rings on your left hand?"

I sighed. The game was up. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, popped the cap off and sat down next to Morelli. I held up my left hand for his inspection.

"They are stuck. I can't get them off. I've been trying all day."

"And you put them on in the first place because?"

"The hospital has a family only policy for the ICU patients. The rings were needed to convince the hospital I was Ranger's wife so they'd let me see him."

Morelli pinched the bridge of his nose and remained silent for a few beats, reigning in his emotions. "Have you tried olive oil to get them off?"

"Yes, and dish soap, dental floss, and butter. My father has a bolt cutter if I reach complete desperation."

"Cupcake, let's try to keep that finger attached, just in case I ever decide to put a real wedding ring on it." He leaned over and kissed me. Light at first, it became progressively passionate. One of his hands slid up the inside of my shirt as he pushed me down onto the couch cushions. He suddenly stopped fondling me as I worked on his button and fly.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this when you've got those rings on."

"Seriously?" Morelli always wanted sex. Always.

"It's hard to get excited when you're wearing rings from another man."

"I'll hide my left hand."

Morelli got up and shook his head. "Call me when you finally get them off." And with that, he put on his jacket, snapped on Bob's leash, and left.

I sat, stunned, for a few minutes until my cell phone rang. I recognized the number of my best friend, Mary Lou. After college, Mary Lou's and my life diverged. Mary Lou got married, started having kids and doing the happy Burg housewife thing. She cooked, she cleaned, she changed diapers and lactated. I, on the other hand, got married, got divorced, got a hamster, got a job selling lingerie, got fired from said job, and became a bounty hunter. Mary Lou represents everything my mother wishes I would be. I am everything Mary Lou wishes she could go back to being. I occasionally look at Mary Lou's life and feel envious. Then her kids do something gross or hideous and I count myself lucky to only have Rex. We've been best friends since elementary school and it's the kind of friendship that doesn't need to be carefully tended. We can go months without speaking and pick up as if no time passed at all.

"Hi Mary Lou," I said as I answered.

"Don't 'Hi Mary Lou' me! You didn't invite me to your wedding!"

"That's because I didn't get married."

"Are you sure? Because everyone is saying you and Joe finally tied the knot."

"Unfounded rumors."

"Based on?"

"It's complicated."

"I like complicated. You want to come over for coffee Monday morning and talk about it? The kids will be at school and after the weekend I'll be craving conversation with other adults."

"It's a date. I'll bring the donuts."

The next day I woke determined to get two things done: get a lead on George Fortecelli and get the fake wedding rings off my finger.

I tried olive oil again, just in case something had changed. It hadn't. I took a shower and dressed in dark blue jeans, a stretchy, long-sleeve burnt orange t-shirt, and boots. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and swiped some mascara on my lashes, then grabbed my messenger bag and coat and headed for the bail bonds office.

"Connie, can you get me the exact location of the land that George Fortecelli put up as collateral for his bond?" I asked as I waltzed in the door. Lula lounged on the sofa, working her way through a bag of McDonalds breakfast sandwiches.

"Sure can." Connie began typing away on her computer. A few seconds later she swiveled the screen so I could take a look at a Google Earth image. No street address existed, just GPS coordinates.

"Thirty acres of woods in the Poconos," she said unenthusiastically.

There appeared to be a dirt road cutting through the property, but no buildings. I looked at the date on the image. "The last fly over by the satellite was almost two years ago. That's plenty of time to build a cabin or other structure."

"Road trip?" Lula asked.

"Road trip," I replied.

"I'm in. But let's stop and get ourselves a picnic lunch. I hear the Poconos are real pretty."

"It's January. A bit cold for a picnic."

"We still need something for lunch, and who knows what we'll find out there in the middle of nowhere. What if there isn't even a McDonalds?"

All three of us shuddered.

"Okay, we'll get a picnic lunch," I agreed.

We stopped at Giovichinnis and got two subs to go, along with a couple bags of chips, a box of Peanut Butter Tandy Kakes, a box of Butterscotch Krimpets and a couple Cokes. We loaded the food into my borrowed Rangeman Jeep and I put the GPS coordinates for Fortecelli's property into Google Maps on my cell phone. Our road trip would take us a little over two hours away.

"Mind if I turn on some road trip music?" asked Lula.

"Go for it," I said as I navigated away from Trenton and toward the Pennsylvania border.

Lula pulled her cell phone from her purse, along with an audio jack. She plugged her phone into the Jeep's sound system and my fillings suddenly vibrated from the bass of a rap song.

I made Lula cut the music as we neared Fortecelli's property. We drove on a narrow backroad, the kind that didn't even have painted lines, curving through the Pocono Mountains. According to the GPS, our destination should be ahead on the left. I slowed, watching for something, anything, that would tell me I'd led us to the right place. But Fortecelli's thirty acres of woods looked just like the last thousand acres of woods I'd driven through. There were no houses, no structures, no signs. We were in the wilderness.

About a mile later, I spotted a rough dirt road emerging from the trees.

"This must be the road we saw on the satellite image," I said.

"It looks like the start of a bad horror movie," remarked Lula.

I couldn't disagree. There were no structures visible through the leafless trees, making me nervous about where the dirt road led.

"We need to check it out," I said, sounding braver than I felt as I turned the Jeep onto the road. "Besides, we're in a Jeep, they're awesome at off-roading and stuff, right?"

"I think this here is a city Jeep."

We bounced along the dirt road, moving ever farther from the main road. Bright yellow "No Trespassing" signs appeared on the trees on either side of the road, every ten feet or so. I ignored them. Sometimes, being a bond enforcement agent had its perks, and this was one of those few times. Because I have reasonable suspicion that George Fortecelli might be on his property, I could trespass.

The road began to climb upward, still with no sign of any civilization. We reached the top of the mountain, where it became clear exactly what George did with his thirty acres.

"Greenhouses!" Lula exclaimed. "I never expected George to have a green thumb."

"I'm pretty sure he's not growing petunias in there," I replied, parking the Jeep near the first greenhouse. I didn't see any other vehicles, so I felt safe getting out and looking around.

There were three large industrial sized greenhouses in a clearing on top of the mountain. Several rows of solar panels tilted toward the sky and I spotted a capped well pipe near the second greenhouse. It looked like George had a large off-the-grid operation going on up here.

I got out of the Jeep, Lula close on my heels, and peeked through one of the panels of the first greenhouse. Row upon row of marijuana plants in various stages of growth sat in neat lines. It looked like there were automatic sprinklers hanging from the ceiling, along with massive sunlamps. A large thermometer on the wall indicated a balmy 80 degrees inside the greenhouse. The other two greenhouses were much the same.

In the third greenhouse, a small cot with a pillow on it sat near the door. A small room had been crammed into the corner, and through the open door I spotted a toilet and sink.

"What's the street value of this much weed?" I asked Lula.

"A lot," she replied. "Hundreds of thousands, maybe more."

I figured as much. "So then, if you got arrested on a measly arson charge, would you put up the land your lucrative pot greenhouses sit on and then skip town?"

Lula shook her head. "No way. Only an idiot would do that."

I looked around at the greenhouses. "This wasn't set up by an idiot," I replied. "Something feels off. Why would Fortecelli risk losing this, not to mention the additional drug charges?"

"Maybe we should ponder that in the car," suggested Lula, pointing toward the eaves of one of the greenhouses.

I followed her point to see a security camera looking our way. I glanced at the other greenhouses and caught a camera turn in our direction. Someone must remotely monitor the property.

"Yep. Time to go!"

Lula and I jumped back into the Jeep, I pulled a U-turn, and we bumped back down the dirt road as fast as I could without breaking an axle. I didn't stop checking my mirrors for a tail until we merged onto Interstate 80, heading east toward Jersey.

I took the ramp to the Delaware Water Gap National Park to find a nice scenic spot for our picnic. There weren't many other cars as I pulled into one of the scenic overlook lots and parked in a spot overlooking the Delaware River, which meandered past far below us. Lula and I grabbed our subs, chips, Tastykakes and sodas.

"Gotta say, it's not as pretty as I expected," Lula remarked in between bites.

The sky, a sullen gray that hinted at the strong possibility of snowflakes in the near future, looked drab. Most of the trees were barren and leafless. Nothing flew in the sky. No cute friendly deer grazed nearby. It was a bit underwhelming. "I imagine it's nicer in the summer. Probably really pretty in the fall, when all the leaves change colors."

My cell phone rang and Ranger's name flashed on the screen.

"Hello."

"Tank says your Jeep has been in the Poconos all day. Doing some sightseeing?"

"Lula and I were checking out a piece of property one of my skips put up for his bond."

"He owns property in a national park?"

"Nearby. Since we were coming out this way, we decided to pack a picnic lunch. It's very scenic."

"In January? Only if you're a skier," Ranger replied. "So, did you find your skip?"

"Not yet."

"You're out of leads, aren't you?"

"Sorta."

"Want help?"

"You need to rest and recuperate," I reminded him.

"You sound like my mother."

I heard a woman's voice in the background say something in Spanish, and Ranger reply. "My mother would like to know if you want to come over for dinner?"

I couldn't help but smile. "I don't think I've been invited over for dinner by someone's mother since I was in high school," I teased.

"Come over for dinner, Babe. And you can fill me in on this skip."

"Is that desperation I hear in your voice? Usually, I'm the one begging you for help."

"I need something to keep me from going stir crazy. So, tonight, six o'clock?"

"Sure," I finally agreed. "See you then."

I hung up and Lula gave me a disbelieving look.

"You've gone and tamed Batman."

"What?"

"His mother is inviting you over for dinner. That's so…" Lula searched for the right word, "domestic."

The clouds thinned and a few sunbeams broke through, sparkling off the river below us.

"Look at that," Lula remarked. "I guess it is kind of pretty."

It was after three when we got back to the bail bonds office, and I was still 0-2 on my day's goals. I had more questions than answers when it came to Fortecelli and I still sported my fake wedding rings.

I filled Connie in on what we'd found on Fortecelli's property. The moment I started describing the greenhouses full of pot, Vinnie emerged from his office.

"Are you shitting me? That much pot would bring the feds. Do you know how long it will take the feds to clear that land? It'll be years before I could sell it to recoup some of my losses. You need to find Fortecelli!" He slammed his door for effect and I sent him a stiff middle finger.